100th Hunger Games :
by ginadelaurentis
Summary: Let the 100th Hunger Games begin! This is the usual format of the Hunger Games, if there was no Katniss and Peeta.  The people that may be dead are alive, and Panem is still in control.  Hope you enjoy :D


Hey guys, this is my first fanfic so please don't freak out on me, but i would love to get some reviews. Um. All rights to Suzanne Collins because i am not her so dont like sue me. Thanks. :D

ginadelaurentis.

Aurora Caywood- District 1.

"Miss Aurora? Miss Aurora Caywood! Please, wake up," Someone's shaking me.

"Yeah, okay," I nod, a signal for whoever was shaking me to leave. The sweet scent of wine drifted into my nose. With a sigh, I remembered that the mess of the party was still left as it was. Like most parties were in District 1, it was wild, hot and totally steamed. I opened one eye and surveyed the room. Yup. The living room's expensive furniture was strewn with glitter and streamers and the floor was decorated with some of the exquisite half eaten food. Groaning, I pushed myself up with one arm. How did I manage to fall asleep on the couch? Shaking my head to clear the haziness, I forced myself to lift one foot onto the floor and the other, leading me to the dining room. As usual, the dinner table was cleared and displayed a variety of delicacies. Both parents, carefully dressed with each a mug of coffee nodded at me a hello. I greeted them good morning, though neither of them even looked at me. As I took my seat, I didn't feel so hungry. Something was bugging me, and I couldn't figure out what it was. I knew that today was a big day. But I just couldn't put my finger on what the big event was. I flicked on the TV, and the well known Claudius Templesmith filled the screen.

"Yes, citizens of Panem, it is reaping day! The day we've all been waiting for…"

I turn the mute button on. Oh, right. Reaping day. There's so many mixed feeling for today. Indifference, sorrow, nervousness… There's one in a million chance that I'd get reaped, but still. Once you become 13, everyone's name is automatically put into reaping. I don't know the details, but in some poorer districts, if you need extra help, then if you put your name once more into the slip and they will help you or something. But in District 1, we never have to do that, because we live a good life. Anyways, in reaping day, each district pulls out one girl and one boy from the bag. Whoever is chosen (unless they have a volunteer) is a tribute for their district to the Hunger Games. Hunger Games is a festival that we have every year and all the tributes of all districts participates. It's a game where they are put into a arena and they fight until only one tribute is left alive, and that tribute becomes the victor, and their district gets to live happily ever after for that year. Usually someone from the rich districts stays alive, because of the sponsors and all that. But because my name is only in the bag once, I have very little chance of being chosen as a tribute. So I'm not _too_ worried.

I checked the time. 11:00. I'd better start getting ready and make my way up to my room. On reaping day, everyone has to dress up. I choose a simple white dress with a mint green ribbon around the waist and somehow put my hair up in an elegant bun with a thick emerald hair tie to match. I twirl once in my room and check myself in the mirror. Loose strands of my caramel colored locks rest perfectly around my face, and the green hair tie and ribbon bring out the color of my eyes. I finger the necklace that falls right in between my collarbones. A letter C for Caywood. The necklace held so many memories. It's my older sister's, Trinity Caywood. Or at least it was. Trinity died exactly 4 years ago due to being reaped and chosen as a tribute. I was only 6 then, but the memories are imprinted in my mind still so clearly. Those were the years when my parents were actually full of life and happy. Trinity was the love of my parent's life. They adored her and gave her everything they could. She was someone that made you want to please her. Gorgeous, rich, smart, nice, popular. She was everything. Sometimes, I hated her for being so perfect. But ever since the reaping, life has never been the same.

"Miss Aurora? Your parents are waiting for you downstairs. It's time to go to reaping," One of my maids called outside the door.

With one last fleeting glance in the mirror and touch of the necklace, I went downstairs.

Ruby Zershmeide- District 2.

"Ruby! Get your Miss Panem butt over here! We're going in three, two, oneeeeee….seconds!" Maria Valance, my best friend ever since 2nd grade and fellow career shouted from the bottom floor.

Dabbing a little cherry colored lip-gloss onto my already over glossed lips, I struggled to run down the cylinder shaped stairway and put on a high heel at the same time. "Wait, M! I'm comi- Ouch! Hell-licopter to this heel!" I hopped down the stairs with one foot, each time almost losing my balance. When I got to the last step, I managed to pull the shoe on and did a little victory dance.

Laughing, Maria shook her head and motioned me to follow her to her car. "Well, Miss Zershmeide, Miss Panem _and_ Miss Career, you are exactly… 25 seconds and 7 milliseconds late. It's not very good for your reputation if you're tardy on your reaping day, you know. You never know, you might have the chance to become District 2's tribute! Wouldn't that be fabulous, having a gorgeous and extremely dangerous tribute?"

We each climbed into the limo, with me doing my usual somersault and Maria doing her cartwheel split and ending with a sexy pose. It was a routine we did every time we finished career practice. We, careers, are people usually from the richer districts, 1, 2, 3, and 4 who are trained for their whole life to be prepared for the Hunger Games. Today was reaping day. If any careers got chosen from our district, we would usually have the upper hand unless the other districts also had careers. And though I was taught to survive the whole game and win since 4 years old, my heart still beat at an unhealthy rate whenever I imagined the thought of being chosen. In our district, it was actually an honor to be chosen to be a tribute and be able to participate in the games, and there was a lot of volunteering for the person who became reaped, but I still felt like barfing whenever I thought of killing a real live human being. People would say that I had a 'weak stomach', and I learned to pretend and cover my disgust in violence. District 2's people are usually born with a warrior mindset, but I was always different. I was a little prancing girl compared to the others. Maria went on laughing and giggling at all the hot guys that were going to be a tribute and who she was going to bet for. I, on the other hand, glanced out the window and remembered.

It was only a few hours before Maria arrived. Willow came into my room, informing me that Grandma wanted me. Willow was the nurse that took care of my sick Grandma, she was already 91, and at the age where life was coming to an end for her. She had decided that she didn't want anyone to make any effort for us to keep her alive; she just wanted to go peacefully, without a fight.

"My Ruby," Granny croaked as I approached her. She reached out a hand for me to hold. "How beautiful you have grown to be. The precise shade of your golden hair the glassy blue eyes, it's almost like seeing a reflection of me back when I was younger."

I glowed with pride. Though Grandma was one that gave a lot of compliments, whether this was true or not, it didn't matter. She was beautiful when she was young. I saw past pictures of her, and she was so delicately beautiful, like a china doll.

"Take it, child," She shimmied off her thin gold bracelet that she had worn almost all her life, a souvenir of her memories, something so precious to her that it had left a little imprint of it onto Granny's thin skin. "Go on, don't be afraid. It's reaping day, isn't it? It's had memories of my reaping days, and now it'll have yours. Rather than for you, it's for me. Listen, I haven't got long, not long at all, and it's my last wish,"

Weakly smiling and mumbling a ton of thank yous, I gently picked it up and slithered it onto my own wrist. It looked peaceful there, like it was getting settled into it's new, happy home.

I glanced at Grandma and whispered, "Thank you, Grandma. This means the heavens and the seas to me."

Now, as the buildings of Panem flew past me in a blur and Maria's voice as my background music, I fingered my new bracelet, and breathed one last time, "Thank you."

Bee Story- District 4.

I sat in the auditorium, with Bay, my best friend and twin sister on one side of me, and my other best friend, Same on the other. Our parents were a few seats away from us, talking with Same's parents. Lachlan, our district, District 4's escort, was on the side of the stage with his dyed platinum blond hair. He jumped about and was talking rapidly to our president, President Bass. All the past victors were sitting in the front rows, and other than the few people talking, everyone else had their eyes on the ticking clock, watching every second, every millisecond until the big hand finally moved to the number 12.

Lachlan bounded up the stage with President Bass trailing after him. With his quick, enthusiastic movements and large smile, he seemed to remind me of a dog.

"Right, well. It's quite a pleasure to see you folks again, and it seems like we are already anticipating our tributes for this year. Why don't we go with men first this time?" There was no whispering or even a cough. It was so silent it was loud. Everyone was holding his or her breath. Who would the unlucky boy be this year? "Our male tribute this year representing our district is…Jock Tone! Congratulations, Jock!"

I knew Jock. He was a year younger than me, so he was only 13 and was kind of a dweeb. He was smart, so smart that he skipped a grade. In school, he was known to be picked on a lot, being so young and nerdy. His thin body shook and pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up a lot more than usual. His parents chose a very ironic name. There was not a single resemblance that he was anyway a jock. People stared as he walked past. I knew what they were thinking, 'No way is he going to win!'

"And our lady tribute is…" Lachlan put on a show of picking out a slip of paper. All I could think of was that it couldn't be me. _Please not me, please not me, please not me, please not me, _I chanted multiple times in my head. I put my hands together and pressed them to my forehead in a praying position. "Bee Story! Yes Bee, please come on up to the stage!"

For a second, I believe my face was paralyzed. No, my whole body was paralyzed. I couldn't get out of my seat. What were the chances of _me_ becoming tribute? Almost zero! This couldn't happen. No. My mind refused to accept the truth. Same's jaw was hanging and my parents' faces were masks. Only Bay had the same expression as I did, like she was just slapped. Someone behind me poked me from the back prodding me to go forward. I refused to move, or at least my body didn't. My eyes had gone from large, turquoise eyes to dark blue, almost purple colored, as big as golf balls eyes. My dark tan, drained to a pale, pinky color. My mind had to have some extra time to catch up and realize what was happening. The dude behind me poked me even harder, causing me to stand up. I took each wobbling step to the stage with all eyes on me, and only me. I swear; I was shaking a lot more than Jock. I slowly made my way up the stairs to the stage, almost losing my balance from the amount of my shaking and finally came and stood next to Jock. Here we were; standing in front of our district, and just found out that we were about to fight in a battle ring until our death. With the whole of Panem watching. I let my dark, black hair slither down over my right eye. At that moment, I really didn't care how I looked. Once again, Lachlan continued babbling in an upbeat tone. I only knew one thing: I was going to win, and nothing, _nothing,_ was going to stop me.

Casey Ellison- District 7.

"Cassy Ellison! Yes, this year's female tribute for district seven is Cassy Ellison!" Doll Nome, our district's escort announced. For a second, I thought, 'Who's Cassy Ellison, I didn't know anyone else had the same last name than me that's outside of my family!' Cassy? But then, everyone was staring at me, with a mix of shock and sympathy. Why? My name wasn't Cassy; it was Casey. But Ellison. The pieces of the puzzle came together slowly. She had pronounced my name wrong. There was no Cassy Ellison. Only a Casey Ellison, in other words me. I was the female tribute for district seven. No. No way. My mind refused to believe it, and evidently wasn't a little slow today, not completely registering the words.

"Cassy? Casey? Yes, Casey Ellison? Oops, sorry Casey! My bad." Nome continued giggling as if nothing had happened. I realized that I couldn't manage to look at my family's expressions. Unexplainably, I didn't really care at the moment. My thoughts racing past me, not giving me time to think about each one, they were almost as if they were uncontrollable. I also realized that it meant that I had to go up to the stage, and stood up stiffly, and face unreadable. I needed to make sure that no one knew how I was feeling. How was I feeling? Not exactly shocked, but not exactly nervous, and definitely not happy or excited. I searched for a word, describing my feeling. Once I reached the stage, I found it. Numb. I felt numb. I begged God of whoever was up there in the heavens to have someone volunteer for her. Anyone. Please? My wish was greeted with silence and shocked faces. Maybe this was a dream, I thought, knowing it wasn't true. Doll patted my back confirming my doubt.

"Our male tribute is…" Fishing for a slip she squinted her eyes in concentration. The slowly opened the paper for dramatic effect. At the name she did a double take. "Our male tribute is Wellins Ellison." She even looked shocked. Hesitantly she continued her cheerful banter a little carefully. "Well, looks like we have a brother-sister tribute, don't we? Fun!"

I blinked rapidly a couple of times, the words sinking in, giving me the true meaning. Wellins? Our Wellins? He was barely 13! I glanced over at my parents' faces. It was…an unnamable expression, both so painful and agonizing to even describe. It was a double blow for them. Both children taken away from them, risking death, or murdering each other. The thought of me almost made me barf. I had to have my brother die in order for me to live.

"Wait, no, Wellins, no! Stop! Don't! Please, Doll, don't let him, don't! Someone, help!" The words burst out of me. My eyes pleaded with Doll's and the crowd, to spare my brother, to give him a chance to live. They all avoided my eyes, as if guilty of a crime. Each of them seemed as good as criminals. Leaving a 13 year old to die with their 16 year old sister. Couldn't someone be sympathetic at the least and meet my eyes? I tucked a strand of loose gold hair behind my ear and covered my eyes, hiding my pain. The world crumbled down around me.

Nan Weatherall- District 5.

I sat. And sat. Stared out the window, wistfully. Knowing that this was one of my last days in my district. All the little things that didn't seem to matter so much now was another thing I would miss when I go to the Capitol. The tree that Cal and I carved our names into as a vow of our friendship. The shortcut route I take to my school so I won't have to wake up as early. The days my sister, Elisabeth and I would fight over the only drumstick at dinner. Lost in memories, I didn't hear the muted footsteps of my mother come into my cramped room.

"Nan. Come on. Sitting and doing nothing won't help you the least. Cal's here, and there are only so many days left," My mom chided me gently. Yeah, there are only so many days of my life left. After the reaping, I haven't done much other than nibble on some food, sit, and sleep. Also, it seemed like my eyes were going to have permanent bags under them, and a shadow over my face, giving it a gloomy look. It's not like I had anything better to do anyways. "I have something I want to give to you before you leave though," Mom continued talking in that soft, sweet voice she uses on me whenever I'm feeling down. As much as I love and look up to her, there's no way my mother was going to make me feel any better, so I ignore her. She takes my right hand and drops a smooth, cold stone in it. I finally decided to give in and see what she has given to me. It was an ovular turquoise stone set on a thick silver chain. I haven't ever seen it before, and it looked like one of the necklaces that you would find in the Capitol. Furrowing my eyebrows, I look at Mom.

"It was your great-great-great grandma's. Your grandmother had passed it down to me, but ever since her death, I couldn't bear to wear it. It's been passed down through the women of our family for decades, and I thought you might want it, and maybe wear it as a token."

My grandma had passed away when I was 2 years old, and I never had a memory of her before. I slipped the ancient heirloom around my neck and caressed it. My mom turned me to the cracked mirror, and I saw how it fell right in between my collarbones, and how it looked as if it was made for me. I managed a small smile. The comforting fingers stroked my gingery hair, and untangled the knots. Next to my mom, I could see all the tiny resemblances. The red hair, nose, the cat-like eyes; it was all there. People would always say how beautiful my mom is, but never once would they say that I looked like her. I was made fun of in school because of my 5 ft. height and red hair. I wasn't a typical face you would see in our district. Gingers are rare, and we do get laughed at about it, unless you're as enchanting looking as my mom. But people don't think we look alike, so I have double the teasing. But somehow, she did the impossible: cheer me up, a few days before my death.

Jasmine Hollis- District 11.

The games are a horrible 'celebration' that the Capitol throws. It wasn't so shocking that my name was reaped, though I didn't really count on it happening. But to be honest, I don't really have a bundle of skills that could help me to survive in the arena, and I doubt I will actually become a victor. But I will try as hard as possible to do everything that will lead me to becoming a step closer to winning.

Just as I was about to go on the train to the Capitol, our district's escort led me into the train. Before I climbed inside, I gazed across the rows of wheat, rye, grain and so on of my district, a silent goodbye. I would miss them, for I was the one that grew and cared for them after all. There was no one else to say goodbye to. Obviously, my father wouldn't be there to say goodbye, he was probably glad that he wouldn't have to finish me off himself and he wouldn't have let my 5 younger siblings come either. As for my friends, I could hardly call them my friends. They were gossipy, chatterboxy, dumb girls that I happened to befriend while working in the fields. Most people refer to me as a loner, and I don't really mind it all that much. I don't like other people's company, because that would mean I would have to talk to them, and it was partly how I learned to grow up, having almost no one except my younger siblings to talk to. And I couldn't talk to them either about my feelings, I was supposed to be their role model. I lived what you could call a lonely life, having barely any friends and having to raise my troublemaking brothers and sisters all by myself. My mom passed away when I was 5 or 6, and my dad would never acknowledge I'm there, except when he screams and shouts at me.

On the other hand, though, Rye, district 11's male tribute just loved to talk and had plenty of practice telling _his_ feelings and gave and received lots of love. He went on and on about how he's going to miss his home and friends, but thinks he has a fair chance at winning, and so on. It nearly burst my head to pieces.

"No need to be shy, Jasmine, I mean it's not like we have forever to live, right, I mean, this may be one of our last days, so we should enjoy it together, you know, I think I'm going to have alleys when I'm in the arena, maybe you, you seem quick and strong, but still, I think you should reach out and stop being shy, that would really help you in the games," Rye chattered away, not talking in sentences but in long, _long _phrases. He hardly stopped or paused, other than to breathe, and if he asked you a question, he would go on to another topic before giving you time to answer it.

And anyways, I'm not shy. No matter how many people assume that I am, I'm not. I just don't see the reason to waste my breath. If what you're going to say doesn't have a lot of meaning, why say it? I resisted my strong temptation to insult him with all I was worth. What good would that do me? I would just be number one on his list to kill. So I shot Rye a glare and continued not speaking.

True Elcik- District 12.

The moment Ren and I stepped out of my train compartment, it seemed like we stepped into a whole new world. The people with weird patterns on their face crowding around us to shoot our first time in the Capitol, the towering skyscrapers, modernizing the city, even the too-blue sky, it all seemed so unhome-like. But there was something unsettling about the place. It was all so…artificial. The moon glowed too brightly, the clouds were too fluffy and the streets seemed too clean. I wanted to stand there and take a look around, kind of get used to my surroundings, but our district's escort, Effie, and the rest of our crew pushed us into another building which was apparently our new home until our death. A newscaster poked a microphone at my face and started asking me random questions about myself. One of the attendants butted him out, and tried to lead me forward. Instead I bent down and reached out a hand for him. Gratefully he took it and thanked me as I helped him up, while the cameras were still on me. Pretending I didn't see the people videoing me, I flashed my most charming half-smile and brushed my hair away from my eyes.

"No problem. I'm True Elcik, tribute from District 12. Sorry about that, I'm sure he didn't mean it," I apologized on the attendants behalf.

First impressions make everlasting impression. Though I had no idea what my interview approach was going to be, this was a start. Nice guy, True Elcik. Not bad.

He accepted my apology and as I was hustled forward I could hear him say to the cameras, "We've met our first tribute of District 12. There definitely seems to be some good in him, and quite a bit of charm. I look forward to seeing how he holds up in the arena with the other tributes, but I will certainly be rooting for True Elcik."

That went better than I planned it to be, already having some people cheering for me, possibly sponsors. This was pretty chill. There were people everywhere calling our names, trying to get our attention. Life in the Capitol was not very peaceful, I figured. As much as I hated the cruel Capitol, being followed by paparazzi, news reporters asking you questions, it was probably not easy to have some time by yourself around here. Haymitch, our mentor, knocked anyone over that was in his way, and muttered swear words every few seconds. Even Effie was screaming at people with that high, shrill voice of hers, forgetting her manners.

"Excuse me! Out of the way! These tributes need to get to their prep teams in time! You're making us late! _Excuse_ me!"

I caught a glimpse of another of the tributes of a different district in the same situation as us. She had long, wavy caramel colored hair that she put up in a high ponytail and had grayish green eyes that pierced through me as if she could see every thought in my mind. Her coral lips curled into a mischievous smile and winked at me. God, she wasevery kind of hot. As I dumbly stood there, wondering how to respond, she was gone. Great. Another tribute I have to kill. Another _hot_ tribute I have to kill.

Ren Zaira- District 12.

"Ren, right? Come along, well, we have quite a bit to do before you meet Cinna," One of prep team people, Octavia, as she introduced herself, led me into a air conditioned room, with each wall covered with one way glass, so we could see the whole of Capitol, while no one on the outside could see in. As another two stripped my clothing off so I was stark naked, Venia, another one on my prep team scanned me from head to toe. It felt like I was under some kind of x-ray scanner with them watching me. I bet not one scab, bruise or smudge went unnoticed between the three of them. I avoided their stern gazes and tried looking around the room as they went to work with my hairy legs and arms. This gave me something I could keep my mind on while the excruciating pain was in progress. With all of them darting around me with such florescent colored hair and skin, it seemed as if they were tropical birds or something, twittering away about their insignificant lives.

"My, my, you don't happen to shave at all, do you? You're 16 years old now, it's time that you do!" Flavius scolded me. He had bright orange hair that was styled so it looked like springs sprouting out of his head. I didn't bother explaining that in the Seam, it was really about surviving and having enough food to eat, rather than how much body hair I had. They examined my unhealthily thin and mostly flat figure with a shake of their heads. But not being able to do anything with it, they proceeded to give me a soothing and relaxing warm salt bath and then finally calling my stylist, Cinna. Unlike Octavia's turquoise colored skin, or Venia's large golden tattoos, Cinna looked freakishly normal compared to the rest of the team. He had short brown hair with just a plain gray shirt and jeans on. He introduced himself shortly and got back to working on me. After passing his approval of my smooth, clean body, he showed me my chariot outfit that I was going to wear in my first official public appearance. It was a one shoulder, slightly bulky dress, but still with a defined figure. It was covered with hard coal-like things. The dress was too light to be plastered with actual coals, but it looked as if it was. In between the cracks of the supposed-to-be-rocks, a shimmery, fire colored fabric peeked through. When I put it on, it looked as if I was studded with coals that glowed. Because the dress was somewhat voluminous my skinniness disappeared and gave me a more of a curvy shape.

While the preps worked on my face, with dark, arching eyebrows, high cheekbones and dark red lipstick, Cinna let my hair down and sprinkled it with water, causing it to appear sexier. Flavius also tinged my hair with red and orange, like flames were dancing on my jet-black hair.

Now, they turned me toward a mirror, all on their toes to see my reaction. I didn't see the girl that's been living in the Seam for the past 16 years, her nose stuck in a book. Instead I saw a woman who was head strong, not afraid to do what she wants, and knew exactly what to do and how. She looked like a woman who has a plan. But she doesn't.

Aurora Caywood- District 1.

Okay. I can do this. Our chariot's in the very front of the long line, because lucky for me, we're District 1, hence the first district that makes its appearance. The familiar anthem of Panem has started and our chariot jerked ahead and progressed through the wide doors of the opening. The roar of the crowds nearly burst my eardrums, even before I saw through the bright light of the sun to observe the hectic mass of people in the sidelines. The sunlight catches onto the gold coins sewn onto my strapless dress resulting it to glimmer and shine brightly. I put on my most winning smile, displaying my perfect white teeth. I waved and blew kisses to the assembly only a couple of times, following the instructions to my mentors.

'Give them a little of what they want, but not too much, so they're on their toes.' I think that's how Cashmere had put it. I could hear them chanting my name loudly, and winked at one of the guys in the throng. He blushed a deep red while the hysteria grew wilder.

As we bend around at the loop of the City Circle, I throw my glowing headband that rests around my forehead into another fan club of mine, and they bellowed in appreciation. Because I had to focus on the crowds as much as possible, I didn't have the chance to look around at the other tributes and their outfits, nor could I relax and drop the act until the doors of the Training Center had closed. Ayla, my stylist, was there to greet me and helped me out of my chariot while praising my performance. After thanking her, I gazed around at the other tributes looking for one person in particular. I searched for messy, tousled, copper brown hair and laughing, chocolate eyes. A guy with a playful smile and a tan that doesn't look like it came out of a can. In the far front chariot, I spotted him. He was the one I winked at after getting out of the train, the one that smiled back at me wickedly. He was wearing a coal-coated jacket that seemed like it was glowing and a simple red shirt underneath that seemed to emphasize his muscles. Catching on that I wasn't listening to word she was saying, Ayla followed my gaze to the 'mystery guy'.

"Oh. I know the guy you're staring at. He came out on the news a couple of days before. His name's True Elcik from District 12. Gorgeous, I know," She sighed wistfully at True, probably fantasizing the days when she was 10 years younger.

True. True Elcik. He looked like a True, I thought as I snuck another peek his way. Somehow sensing that he was being stared at, he looked around, to his right and left, then caught my gaze. This time I didn't do anything but blinked back at him, kind of shocked by his full on hotness. There were no winks or smiles exchanged this time, just blatant staring from both sides. I tried to tear my eyes away from him, but my eyes just refused to listen. Suddenly, he started coming our way. I swiftly tuned into Ayla's babbling and became interested in what she was saying about her new gems that she was going to implant on the left side of her face. When True reached us, he held out a hand.

"True Elcik, District 12. And you're from…District 1, I gather?" He asked me with a glance at my dress.

On the outside, I swear, I was trying to seem as cool as possible, but it was a totally different story on the inside. My whole body was on alert signal and was panicking.

"Aurora Caywood, and yes, I'm fro-" I wasn't able to finish my sentence because apparently it was time for dinner and it was necessary for me to be there on time and was dragged away by Ayla.

As I was hauled towards the elevator, Cashmere and Gloss appeared on either side of me. Fiercely, Gloss reminded me of where I was.

"Aurora. Focus. This is the Hunger Games!"

Ruby Zershmeide- District 2.

Enobaria announced the schedule out for today at the breakfast table.

"Here's the plan. Right after we finish, you'll go straight down to the training center and train your weaknesses. Ruby, as much as you've trained for this almost your whole life, you still have knives and the plants section to work on. Mace, you have tons of strengths, but save that for when you are showing the Gamemakers and work on anything that can work on your reflexes. And for both of you, start creating alliances to anyone useful in 1 and 4, and whoever else. Remember, we're careers and you two will be leading the pack."

I nodded determinedly wanting to make sure that she knew that I wasn't out of the running in winning the Games. Mace just nodded in that robotic way of his and continued eating his pancakes. He was odd in a way that I couldn't figure out. He seemed like a puzzle to me, though he did everything so plainly and blatantly that it was like there was nothing to uncover. I shook my head and pushed away the remains of the mushroom soup and told them that I would go down a little earlier. Training would be the most important part of my time here, I knew and I had to use the time as efficiently as possible.

I met some tributes while in the elevator. There was a really pretty girl with dark blonde hair that tumbled onto her shoulders from District 1, that had her mind set on becoming the victor, and a quite good looking guy from District 12 named True. Both tributes acted so comfortable with each other, I almost would have thought that they were flirting if we weren't in the Hunger Games. And that they were both from districts who disliked each other very much. I pretended that I didn't notice anything unusual about their behavior. When we arrived in the center, the trainers were still setting up the stations. I decided to take a look around and see what could be useful stations. The bow and arrow station was one I didn't need to train at all at, having my biggest strength be arrows. That would be the station I would be at while the Gamemakers went around observing us for our scores. But for now, there were some stations of plant survival and knife throwing. I noticed that most tributes were now filing into the gym and Atala started to run through the list of stations. I observed each tribute carefully, focusing more on the bulky and lean-but-quick types and skimming the lesser ones. I noticed one girl especially, with dark hair and amber eyes. She was lean, but a muscular build as well. I knew that this wasn't one of the tributes that would want to join the Careers, and the Careers wouldn't want her anyways. But she had an almost attracting force around her, even if her eyes flashed dangerously at anyone near her. I started towards her, but Brutus and Enobaria's harsh faces appeared in my mind, and I veered off course towards the plants station. The stunning girl that I had met in the elevator was there as well, and I befriended her. Her name was Aurora from District 1, and as beautiful as she was, she wasn't completely useless. I could tell by her strong arms that she could be quite functional with weaponry and looking at the hard glint in her eyes, I could tell that she wasn't a weakling. It almost felt like there was something in her past that broke her down, and forced her to bear the world. We struggled together through the activities, and the trainer tried his best to teach us as much as possible, though we could tell he was almost on the brink of crying with our ignorance for plant survival. So we set off in different stations once again, and as I kept my eyes on her, she was deadly with the daggers, never missed one target. As much as she was amazing, I still wanted that other girl on the pack.

Bee Story- District 4.

I was called during lunch for my private session with the Gamemakers to show them what I was made of. I would get my score and either attract or repel sponsors. Walking into the gym, I tightened my ponytail so it swung sleekly on my shoulders and molded a determined expression on to my face. I knew what I needed to showcase to them. Flexibility and knives. Avoid archery stations and sword stations. Knives were my specialty, because unlike the rest of the people in my district, I use a knife to stab my fish, instead of a fishing rod. The Gamemakers smiled and acknowledged me, while I walked towards the rack of knives. I pulled out my favorite one, the one on the far right, and the slightest one with a long curved end. I knew exactly how much force and what angle I had to throw with to get the most accurate shot with this knife from practicing for a while in my practice sessions. I threw the knife up in the air once and caught it, a signal to the start of my show. I could feel the Gamemakers eyes on me as I hurled the dagger towards my first victim, the dummy moving side to side slowly, and the tip penetrated its heart at once. I proceeded my routine by doing a back flip in the air and grabbed a few more blades and pitched them at the next targets, all at once, and each one hitting them squarely in the chest. I'm so glad my mother had the foresight to send me to gymnastics lessons, even if they only lasted for a few months. I'm a lot more flexible, and I've learned tips on being able to dodge stuff and do tricks that may surprise the opponent.

I glanced in time watching them nodding with approval and scribbling notes down. Others whispered amongst themselves, and I couldn't help wondering whether it was compliments or insults. I had to do something else that could be breathtakingly amazing to hold their attention. I couldn't stand and just do a few gymnastic moves; I had to do something to prove to them that I was deadly, and had a fair chance of becoming a victor as much as the next tribute did. I glanced around the gym, trying to find something else I could do when my eye caught onto a tree. If there weren't a water related center, then trees would be the next best idea. So I retrieved my weapons from the target and took a few more, then swiftly climbed up the tree, hiding myself from sight. I waited a while, pausing for the Gamemakers to become aware that I had disappeared. Slowly, careful to be as silent as possible, I cast one knife to the tree on the opposite side of the gym, and it landed on the center of the trunk. I continued and threw another one, right above the other. I used up all my daggers doing the same thing, lining each knife up on the side of the trunk until I had one left. I decided to toss that one so one of the branches were cut off, and it landed with a loud 'thunk'. I somersaulted out of the tree back into view, and was dismissed. I knew that I had accomplished my job easily, and not overdone it.

Looking directly at Seneca Crane, the Head Gamemaker, I said with a smile, "I'll be expecting quite a high score tonight." And walked out.

Casey Ellison- District 7.

Everyone crowded around the large, flat screen TV, waiting for it to automatically turn on. It wasn't like we wanted to turn it on now, and watch propaganda filled commercials before the actual program. Our training scores were going to be broadcasted live in a few minutes, and this is the starting point for the betting. Wellins sat next to me, silent as a stone, his face unreadable.

I nudged him playfully. "What do you think you might get? 11?" But he just smiled weakly and shook his head. "Wellins. I know this is hard for you, I mean, you're just 13. But that doesn't mean you might die. I swear I will break every last bone of mine to save you. So who cares about your training score? No one pays attention to the scores that are lower than 9!" The prep teams and designers all nodded in agreement, but all Johanna, our mentor did was shake her head pitifully, and turned her attention to the flashing TV. Each tributes picture would show up, and their training score underneath. Most tributes from the earlier districts got high marks, which didn't come as a shock for me. I predicted I would just get a mediocre grade, maybe 5 or 6 and if they liked me well enough, a 7 or 8. Since I'm from District 7, the district of lumber, we all learn to use an axe ever since we were young and grow up around trees, and it comes out as a useful skill for us. I decided that since that was one of my strengths, I showed them what I could do with an axe and my strength. District 6's last tribute had finished, and it was my turn. My photo came out okay; it was the one after we finished the roundabout in the chariot. My blonde hair looked soft and perfect and though my smile was nervous, you could see their was something about me in my eyes that was unshakable. Then my training score was blinking under the photo. It was a solid 7. Not bad. It wasn't too low that I wouldn't get any sponsors but it wasn't too high that all the careers would come after me either. Everyone clapped me on the back and cheered, and I couldn't cover up a smile. The noise subdued as Wellins' picture was shown on screen. He looked young, younger than 13, almost 12. I gave him a reassuring squeeze when his score came up. My jaw dropped. It was probably a shock to all of Panem. A 10? That was one of the highest points. Wellins shrugged when we all asked him how he managed to do that.

"I just cut down a tree. It wasn't a big tree, just a small one. I mean, I knew that I had to do something related to trees, and isn't that what we've been doing our whole lives? Chopping down trees?" We all kind of nodded still kind of astounded. They must've thought he was really strong if they gave him a 10. As much as I was happy for him for getting such a high score, I still worried about how the rest of Panem would view this. There was no doubt that he would be one of the targets of the Careers. Well, unless…unless he became a Career himself.

Nan Weatherall- District 5.

"Nan. Twirl for me!" Nydus told me with a clap of his hands. I twirled slowly and the team was hushed with awe. I had on an emerald dress that was cinched at the waist with a gold waist band around it and the hem reached down to my lower calves. It was simple, but classic. The way the satin settled onto my body emphasized my curves that are almost invisible. The colors on the dress complimented my fiery hair that was styled in waves and with the help of extensions, it reached down to the middle of my stomach. The silver and black eyeliner made my green eyes sparkle and seem larger. The whole look was finished off with Mom's turquoise necklace that seemed to glow.

"So, what kind of angle was I going for in the interview again?" I asked Nydus tearing my eyes away from myself. The excitement and nervousness of the interview made me dizzy enough to forget two hours before.

"Innocent, I think it was. Yes, that's right. You're naive, overwhelmed and harmless. So it's safe to let your nervousness show. But you're modest and a little shy as well. Should fit you well," He answered looking at me with satisfaction.

I was confused for a minute. This kind of perspective didn't fit in with the dress. My appearance looked so grown-up like but my personality was supposed to be young? I figured that that was intended to make me look even cuter. It shouldn't be too hard, I thought to myself. After all, I am one of the younger ones in the batch, so I just had to act like myself. I nodded, and squeezed Nydus's hand before he led me towards the doors where my mentor and escort awaited me.

The District 1's girl tribute steps towards the center of the stage where Caesar Flickerman is standing, who is the host of the interviews for almost every Hunger Games. This year, his hair is colored hot pink, but otherwise looks the same as every other year. The girl who is being interviewed is introduced as Aurora Caywood and is dressed in a tight gold dress that is embedded in gems and shows quite a large portion of cleavage. Her hair is in an up-do also adorned with jewels. Unsurprisingly, she looked bewitchingly winsome and got a tremendous applause from the crowd. She was witty, charming and so flirtatious that I began to worry about how I wouldn't be able to make the audience even look at me compared to her. But then all of the tributes seemed to be like that, all extremely engaging and charming. The boy from District 3, so cocky and confident, the girl from District 4, fiercely loyal but dangerous, each tribute made me sweat and have another small nervous breakdown. District 4's girl tribute's gown was so beautiful, it looked as if the material that made the dress was actually with water, and even her skin shimmered. It made my attire feel much more simple and plain. And as much as I was allowed to be nervous on stage, I didn't want to appear overly tense and worried. Blushing and not always meeting Caesar's eyes would be acceptable, but not being able to talk was not. While I was deep in thought, abruptly, it became my turn, and Caesar called my name.

Jasmine Hollis- District 11.

Observing the tributes before me, I wondered whether the Capitol had somehow controlled the reaping. This year's batch of tributes was too… exciting to have happened coincidentally. I mean, in District 7, a brother and sister just result to have both been chosen, and all of us either are intelligent, buff or good fighters or hiders. I'm sure they did something to secure the thrill of this year's games were higher than last years. But it shouldn't bother me. I am still as determined to win whether or not the competitors are harder to kill than before.

"Now I present you, Jasmine Hollis of District 11!" Caesar Flickerman announces, and it's my cue to walk over to him. I stand up and walk over to him. What I had on was a beige strapless dress that reached down to my ankles with a slit on the left leg. Across the dress was a print of wheat from my left shoulder down to my right knee. And tucked behind my own ear was a strand of wheat as well. The fawn colored theme blended spectacularly with my darkly tan skin and ebony hair that curled in ringlets and cascaded down one shoulder. Caesar shook my hand once firmly, and it was all I had to hold onto before I toppled off the stage. But I managed to steady myself and keep my poise after he let go.

"Well, Jasmine. I'm sure that after watching all the tributes being interviewed, you must have a first impression of them. Care to share?" Caesar asked me with a smile.

The smile was easing, but it didn't help all that much. _Mysterious. Elusive. Mysterious. Elusive. _I chanted both words in my mind over and over, trying to think up of a answer that fit in description of them, but watching the Capitol people, oh, and the whole of Panem watching me wasn't all that simple. I felt my mentors and the stylists and the prep team all urge me to answer with their eyes, and I swallowed a large ball of spit and spoke.

"All I can say is, they may be all charming and pretty now, but they won't be so much when they're lying dead in the arena." Wait. Was that too dangerous and witty? I side glanced at Seeder. She nodded approvingly and awarded me with one of her warm smiles.

"They definitely won't. She's a fighter, this one," He faked a whisper to the crowd as if I wouldn't hear.

I nodded, agreeing to his comment, "Definitely." The audience roared with laughter. This wasn't so hard, was it? I was actually having some fun with it. The million butterflies in my stomach subsided to just a few fluttering here and there.

"Now Jasmine, tell us. What part of the games do you think you'll enjoy the most?" Enjoy? Hold up. Did he actually say enjoy? Games? I'm a tribute that everyone watching this will also see me die. Nothing to enjoy in that, is there? I knew that I had to answer.

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" I didn't know anything else that I could say to him.

Caesar's face suddenly lighted up. "Oh, I know. Here's the plan. You go into the arena. Survive through at least half of it. If you think you did something that you enjoyed the most in there, then tell the cameras. Deal?"

I had to laugh at the absurdity of this. Once I'm in the arenas, it'd be life or death. But I didn't see a reason not to. It'll win me points for sponsors anyways. "Deal."

We continued talking, some of my answers were humorous, some of them sly. I captivated the spectators all, and they were easy to please.

But this casualness evaporated when he asked, "Let's go to your family now, shall we? Tell us a little about your family's reactions and who they are."

I froze and my face hardened. This was one thing that I wouldn't- couldn't talk about. Not to anyone. Especially not to everyone here. I- It wasn't going to work. But I had to say something.

"My mother died when I was 9, and I have a father and 5 younger siblings; Willow, Fern, Bay, Maple and Ash," I worked my way around the question, hoping that was enough to satisfy them. It wasn't, though. I could tell by the expectant look that Caesar had on. So I lied. "And as for their reaction…my father hugged me and told me he loved me and said he knows I'm going to come back home alive." I pasted a sad, small smile on my face at the memory of nothing. A hum of sympathy ran through the onlookers. My father did nothing of the sort. That would be the reaction of a father I never had, but always wanted. The bruises and cuts on my arms, legs and face that were all covered up with make up, they were from him. His last souvenir for me. Something to remember him by, forever.

Fortunately, before my emotions showed on my face, the buzzer went off, indicating that my three minute interview was up. Sound was blocked out of my ears, and I heard nothing as I rushed back to my seat in the side of the stage.

True Elcik- District 12.

"So True, what do you mostly do back at District 12?" Caesar asked another question. I liked Caesar alright, but his questions were so bland.

"Well, back home, it's just me and my dad. And Dad, I guess you could say he's an all-around type of person. He really wants me to focus on academics, and I really want to please him so I do what he wants me to do. But after that, I mostly go down to the mines or practice face-to-face combat with him." I paused for a second or two, thinking. "Or just go flirt with some girls." Everyone howled with laughter.

"You are definitely good looking. If I were a girl, I swear, I would fall in love with you." Caesar pulled his florescent pink hair down to its full length and batted his eyes. It kind of freaked me out. He actually looked like a girl. In an artificially high-pitched voice he slapped my shoulder and said, "Oh, True!"

"Yeah, they all come flocking to me after school. I'm such a girl magnet that I literally have to pick them off of me," I demonstrated taking Caesar's hand off of my shoulder with my thumb and index finger and flicked it away. "I'm sure once I get to the arena, I'll just have to stay in one spot and all the girl tributes will just come to me. It won't be too hard to win, I think." This was easy, wasn't it? I mean, I even have to say, the audience is snorting their heads off and won't stop. I glanced to the sides of the stage, and caught some of them trying to appear bored, but I saw them shaking with laughter. The tribute sitting in the furthest left side, Aurora, she was shaking her head and attempting to hide a smile. I don't know for sure, but I think there was a flash of fondness in her eyes. I wanted to continue gazing at her, but that wasn't going to work without people seeing that.

"Well, let's go back to what you were saying before. You work in the coalmines already? Aren't you supposed to be 18 to work there?" Caesar pulled the attention back to my life in District 12.

"Actually, that's true. We're supposed to be 18 to work in the coalmines. But they decided to take me in anyway. It's not illegal, or breaking any laws, and it's just a rule that came up for safety. I started two years ago, maybe one and a half years ago. Coalmining isn't easy, so I can understand why they don't want people younger than 18 to work there, though."

"Guess that's where all your muscles come from, eh?" Caesar poked my biceps. "Flex for us."

I declined the invitation politely. The crowd groaned.

"Hey. Don't be a party pooper. The least you can do is one wrestling match here, with me. Nothing too big. Come on." This time I agreed and the crowd whooped and cheered my name. He put both hands and my shoulders and I put my hands on his shoulders. "Ready…Go!" Whether he was trying his best, or trying to let me win, I don't know. But he was easy to beat, anyways. I swiftly pushed him down to the stage, before there was any real fight. The audience erupted with applause and chanted my name.

I gave my hand to Caesar and he stood up then brushed away the dust on his suit. "Okay, okay, now I see why all the girls love you so much. Say, you interested in any of them?" I shook my head. "Then, what about here?" I instinctively looked behind my shoulder, to where Aurora was sitting. This time, I knew I wasn't as lucky. The cameras caught that glance, but the buzzer beeped, saving me from having to answer. Everyone screamed in dissent, but rules were rules, and Caesar finally dismissed me back to my place.

Ren Zaira- District 12.


End file.
